


Exotically Familiar

by orphan_account



Category: due South
Genre: Begging, Community: ds_kinkmeme, Dom/sub, Frak Buddies, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Prostitution, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt on the due South Kink Meme:</p><p>"due South, F/K, V/K - begging - Fraser and Ray have an arrangement; if Fraser's away in Canada, Ray can play with other people. The person Ray usually goes for is Vecchio, because Vecchio will make him beg for it first. (Would prefer no angst, just a happy F/K open relationship with a friends-with-benefits Vecchio!)"</p><p>I bent the prompt a bit, because the F/K relationship ended up being a little bit fraught (at least that's how Vecchio chose to understand it), and Vecchio brings his own post-Vegas angst to the party.  But everyone's basically okay with their current relationships: Fraser/Kowalski and Vecchio/Stella Kowalski, with the two Rays having hall passes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exotically Familiar

Being Armando had been the hardest thing Ray Vecchio had ever done.  Some days, the only thing that got him through it was thinking about Ma, Frannie, Maria, Fraser, Welsh, even Huey and how they were probably also thinking of him, the believers praying and the skeptics hoping.  He imagined going home, everyone beaming and proud of him.  He forced himself not to imagine going home in a box, everyone weeping and proud of him.

It was toughest being Armando in the bedroom.  They’d told him Armando only used hookers, and never more than once, so that made things considerably easier.  Armando’s lieutenant, Coolidge, who was, lucky for everyone especially Ray, a total dumbshit, organized the hookers; all Ray had to say was, “Hey, need a little company tonight,” and Cal would be on it.

After five days, Cal turned to him and said, “You want some company there, boss?”  And well, shit, Ray didn’t especially but if Cal was noticing a lack, then Ray had to get on top of that toot sweet.  "Yeah,” he told Cal.

“Familiar or exotic?”  This was a new one on Ray, something they hadn’t picked up on, so he said “Familiar,” making sure that it came out as a demand, not a question.

Familiar turned out to be a redhead, tall and shapely, maybe a showgirl or would be showgirl.  “Your guy told me what you like,” she said matter-of-factly, and stripped off immediately, laid down on the bed, hands over her head, gripping at the headboard.  “There’s a tie in my purse if you don’t want to mess yours up,” she said helpfully.

Ray thought about this.  She was completely naked, he was fully clothed, and he had a feeling that was how Armando liked it.  He got the tie out of her purse; it was a good one, silk, solid blue, probably picked because it would set off her creamy skin and rich hair beautifully.  He tied her hands, and apparently that was the signal for her to start.

And, Jesus, it turned out Armando was one fucked-up bastard.  What he liked was thankfully not physically violent, but when she looked at him and licked her lips and said, “I want it, want it so much, please, please, Boss, make me beg,” Vecchio caught on real quick.  Armando wanted to be begged.  As the night went on, it was clear that Armando wanted to be begged _constantly_ which as far as Ray was concerned meant the guy had a wealth of self-esteem issues.  Good to know, he'd be sure to pass it along to the handlers, but one hell of an odd way to find out.

Not so good to know, as far as Ray was concerned, was that he liked it, too.  A whole parade of “familiar” women came through, all different skin and hair colors, but all the same body type, all with their own neckties (some put a lot more thought into the aesthetics of the neckties than others; why the tanned blonde had picked violent magenta he would never know).  And all pleading with him to get them off, _but not too soon, please, God, please, please, need you so much._ And it turned Ray on, being begged like that, being needed like that, even if it was not really Ray they needed, or even Armando, but rather the two grand Cal would hand them on the way out.

Sometimes Ray wondered what it would be like if someone honestly wanted him, Ray Vecchio, like that.

Finally, he asked for “exotic” before Cal could prompt him.  In terms of action, Exotic turned out to be exactly the same as Familiar, but this time Ray’s funtime partner was a man.  A lean blond about Ray’s own height, with a silk burgundy necktie shot through with navy thread, something that ended up looking like a bruise against Exotic's pale skin, the tie at first neatly tucked in the back pocket of a pair of black jeans, ratty T-shirt pulled off before Ray even saw the logo on it.  Apparently Armando liked his women meticulously made up, at least at the start of the festivities, but guys were no fuss, no muss, bordering on rough trade.  Also, as it turned out, “exotic” was the exception because he was always the same man.  Ray couldn’t even begin to guess the logic behind that.

And here was something else Ray hadn’t known about himself: he liked making the man beg even more than making the women beg.  His long, hard cock, leaking against his flat stomach while Ray touched him here and there, was somehow more sincere than the women’s wetness. 

Ray rationed himself.  He really wanted Exotic, the only name the man had, every time, but he figured the guy was Exotic for a reason.  So he allowed himself Exotic a couple of times a month, while the parade of Familiars came through pretty much every other day.

When it was all over, Ray went back to his old life, determined to lock Vegas up in a box and shove it in a metaphorical lake.  He wasn’t that guy.  He wasn’t the tough as nails but secretly insecure mobster who needed to be told all about how _no one makes me feel like this, you’re the only one, you’re so good, please please please do anything if you’ll just….._

The only time the box threatened to surface was when he met Kowalski, Fraser's twitchy new partner, who was basically Exotic with a few more miles on him.  That really pissed Ray off, because his first reaction was, fuck I want him on his knees.  And that was even more unpleasant, because Armando never wanted them on their knees; they were always on their backs, being tied up with their own neckties, so he couldn’t tell himself it was just an Armando flashback, because wanting Kowalski on his knees had to be at least partly Ray and Ray alone.

Which sent him into Stella’s arms.  Stella was beautiful, but not showgirl style.  Stella never begged, and Ray didn’t want her to.  He loved her independence, the way she made him work so goddamned hard for everything, because it made his successes with her all the sweeter.

Ray knew he was never going to have Familiar again, which didn’t really bother him because Stella rapidly became the other kind of familiar, the wife kind of familiar, and that was a serious upgrade from Vegas Familiar.  But Ray was regretful that he’d never have Exotic again, and sometimes it was hard to be around Kowalski because he was just a few degrees short of Exotic, reminding Ray of all the ways he’d never be Ray’s Exotic.

Because Kowalski wasn’t with Fraser, he was _with_ Fraser.  And when Ray and Stella sold the bowling alley and moved back to Chicago, he was working with both Kowalski and Fraser (another familiar, a good familiar), and Stella and he would sometimes go on fucking double dates with Kowalski and Fraser, mostly to the more liberal supper clubs around town.  Stella and Kowalski, now in a pattern of ease without recrimination, danced, no, actually they _floated,_ rings around everyone while Ray and Fraser watched.

It was a good life, and if he didn’t have everything he’d ever wanted, he still had so much it was churlish to complain.

Then Fraser’s new boss sent him to Canada for two weeks, and Ray wasn’t sure how it had happened, but apparently Kowalski and Fraser had a talk, and then Fraser and Stella had a talk, and then finally Fraser talked to Ray.  When Ray found out about these conversation, his mind boggled, because there had been massive multi-lateral negotiations going around him, God knew for how long or even just plain _how_ , because apparently the deal was that while Fraser was gone, Kowalski would be coming to Ray for a favor, because apparently Kowalski going without sex for more than a week or so was bad, like Kowalski would get stupid and careless on the job bad.  And Ray was supposed to sort him out.  And Fraser trusted Ray to do the sorting, and Stella _wanted_ Ray to do the sorting (although she was pretty emphatic that she did not need to know the details, didn’t even want to know when it happened because _that would be weird, Ray_ ).

And then Fraser had taken off to go teach some special seminar in international cooperation among law enforcement officers, and Ray started glancing over at Kowalski, wondering when, how soon, how had this become his life, and really, how soon?

Kowalski got twitchy after about two days, and then exponentially went downhill from there.  On the fourth day, he came to Ray and asked him over to watch the game that night.  The only game that was on was the Chicago Sky playing Connecticut or maybe New York, anyway, it was a home game for the girls, and Stella was going to see it with some friends, but Kowalski probably didn’t give a shit about women’s basketball.

Actually, Kowalski _did_ give a shit about women’s basketball.  They really did watch the game, with Kowalski telling Ray all about the players, stuff Ray already knew, but he liked listening to Kowalski’s flat vowels and imagining that he wasn’t talking about the relative merits of University of Connecticut and University of Tennessee alumnae but instead begging him for attention.  Which, Ray supposed, in a way was exactly what Kowalski was actually doing.

When the game was over (Chicago handily dusting New York’s ass), Kowalski turned off the television.  Ray wondered if they were finally going to get to the good part, the part where Ray got to sort Kowalski out as a favor to everyone.

“It’s like this,” Kowalski said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, looking at the floor.  “Fraser said you’d give me this, but only if I really, really needed it.”

“Sure,” Ray said, as though Fraser had given him the kinds of detailed instructions Cal had given all those Vegas Familiars.

“And I really, really need it.  It’s been, what four days, and I’m _dying_ over here.”

Ray saw that Kowalski’s jeans were getting a bit tighter and they hadn’t even started yet.  “Four days?  Jesus, Kowalski, are you fourteen?”

Kowalski blushed, and that was one damn fine sight.  Then he added an embarrassed squirm to the blush, and Ray’s own pants were, with painful suddenness, quite a lot tighter.

“Four days since Fraser left, and how many hours since….” Ray made a universal gesture.

“Four days since _anything_ ,” Kowalski said, still blushing and squirming.  “Fraser said I had to really, honestly need it before I could ask, and that if he couldn’t touch me, then neither could I.”

What the fuck was up with these two?  Fraser was more jealous of Kowalski’s hands than he was of Ray?  “Jesus, you two are _insane_ ,” Ray said.  But in his own mind it was falling into place: Fraser didn’t feel threatened by Ray, because he would always go home to Stella.  What threatened Fraser was Kowalski being self-sufficient.  Ray’d always known Fraser was pretty fucked up about relationships, but this, plus the whole control-freak aspect of it all, was miles past fucked up, it was where fucked up went for vacation when things were getting a little too normal.

Which was also all kinds of hot.  Ray would never want to live with this level of loopy, but it was kind of entertaining to watch Kowalski stammering through the whole thing, because mostly, as near as Ray could tell, he and Fraser were good for each other, but apparently separation really brought out the crazy until nothing else was left.  No wonder Fraser had gone through…whatever Stella had put him through to get Ray involved.

“Just tell me what to do, anything, please, just tell me what you want,” Kowalski was pleading, and no way was Ray going to admit that Kowalski was already giving him pretty much what he wanted.

“Strip off and lie down on the floor,” he barked out, and God, he didn’t _want_ to sound like Armando, except the part of him that kind of did.  Ray had no idea what the rules were, but he wasn’t about to take Kowalski in the bed he shared with Fraser.  Ray was actually a little scared of even _seeing_ the bed Kowalski shared with Fraser; if this was what they did when they were apart from one another, when they were together….There were just some things Ray did not want to think about, and Benny's and Kowalski's bed loaded down with freaky-ass bondage hardware was pretty high on that particular list.

Kowalski stretched out on the floor.  “Grab the coffee table,” Ray told him, and there it was, the lean, stretched arch of Kowalski’s body, cock hard but not leaking, not yet.

“Now, Kowalski, tell me what you want.  What you need,” Ray demanded.

“I need you, need your hands on me, need you to do whatever you want to me, please, Vecchio, please, just let me have it, have you.”

Ray closed his eyes.  It was everything he had wanted in Vegas: someone who knew him and wanted him, was desperate for him.  He opened his eyes again, and knelt beside Kowalski.

“Want my hands here?” he growled, stroking his fingers lightly along Kowalski’s sides. 

Kowalski moaned.  “Here?”  Ray put a thumb on each of Kowalski’s nipples, which got him a “Please, God, yes, fuck!”

“Down here?” Ray asked, skimming his hands down until they were attempting to locate Kowalski’s ass.

“Please,” Kowalski was chanting over and over, interspersing his pleas with the occasional moan of “Vecchio.”

Ray took a moment to take his pants off, carefully draping them on the arm of the couch.  His boxers just got tossed aside.

“I’m not convinced you really want me,” he lied to Kowalski.

“Please, I’m begging you,” Kowalski said.  “Whatever you want, please, I’ll do it, I just need your hands back.”

Ray obliged, putting his hands back on Kowalski’s body, smoothing down his skin, touching him everywhere but his cock.  Kowalski’s pleases and imprecations were getting more desperate, and Ray didn’t think it was possible for Kowalski to sound any more wrecked then he already did, but when Ray started rubbing his cock against Kowalski’s hip, yep, there was Kowalski thanking him then begging for more.

Ray dragged himself up Ray’s body until he was kneeling above Kowalski’s face, knees on either side of Kowalski’s arching body, hands bracing him on the coffee table, which must have weighed about a ton, since it was supporting part of his weight while simultaneously getting yanked on by Kowalski.

“You’re gonna blow me, aren’t you Kowalski?”

“Yeah,” Kowalski said.  “If you’ll let me.  Please will you let me?”

Ray did, brushing his cock against Kowalski’s mouth even before he was finished begging for it, and Kowalski licked at him and was making it good, so good.  Kowalski was still begging with his mouth, but not using words.  He was pulling out all the stops on this blowjob, digging into an impressively deep reservoir of tricks and clearly desperate to please Ray.

Ray gasped out a warning, tried to pull out, but Kowalski wouldn’t let him, frantically sucking at him to keep him in his mouth, and that was it, Ray was done, shuddering and trying to not fall over or bang his head on the coffee table.

Ray managed to pull away from Kowalski, because even though Ray was done, Kowalski was not and it was getting a little bit of the wrong kind of painful.

“That was good,” Ray said, trying to sound smooth and reassuring.  “Real good.”

 “Thank you, Vecchio, oh, God, thank you,” Kowalski said, and Ray wasn’t sure if he was thanking Ray for the compliment or for allowing him the privilege of his sucking his cock.  Ray liked option b best.

“Okay, I think you’ve proved you need it,” Ray told Kowalski, and the “pleases” suddenly became “thank yous” even before Ray went to work, sliding his hand down, knee-walking backwards until he was hovering over Kowalski’s cock, which was leaking all over the place.  Ray touched Kowalski, pulled on his cock twice and that was all it took.  Kowalski was bucking and arching and practically having convulsions, getting come everywhere.

Ray knelt back and enjoyed the view.  Kowalski was panting and cussing, but his body was getting a little less jerky as he settled back into the floor, hands still over his head.  Kowalski was more relaxed than Ray had ever seen him, big goofy grin on his face, belly and chest covered with come, sweat matting his hair.

 “Thanks, Vecchio,” Kowalski said, and this was the kind of thanks he got from Kowalski when Vecchio brought him coffee, or offered to pick up the check after a night on the town.  Sincere, friendly and grateful, but not borderline insane with lust and desperation.  Ray kind of liked this familiar thank you, but he was definitely going to be getting more…exotic thanks from Kowalski.  Ray figured he had about three days before Kowalski would need to be sorted out again, and Ray really wanted to know what Kowalski would say and do to get Ray’s _mouth_ on him.


End file.
